Walking on Broken Glass
by LovelyLytton
Summary: A re-imagination of Andersen's The Little Mermaid. Title from the Annie Lennox Song of the same name. Written for the 2010 Sen/Shi ficathon.


**Walking on Broken Glass**

**

* * *

**

In the deepest and darkest hour of the night, sailors hide in their cabins for there is always one moment when the clouds swallow the stars and the moon, and the world goes black. Close your eyes, open them again, and if you're the fool who is still leaning against the railing, you won't know whether you are drowning in the sea or in the sky, for the boundary between them has disappeared.

In these moments, magic swirls up to the surface, unnoticed by any human. The merpeople, so shy and secretive, come up to hold their faces into the cool midnight air. Some of them swim to the coast and watch the humans, others circle their ships, hoping for strange treasures. If there is a storm, they are waiting for the sailors to go overboard, and if the merpeople are kind, or the sailors are handsome, they might be saved. If not, well, the ground of the ocean will take care of them in its own way.

* * *

Tonight, there is a ship. And a storm. And there is also a mermaid watching a fool (even though few would dare to call him that to his face) from behind the wild waves. Were it not for the silver of his hair, she wouldn't be able to see him in the dark, but this way, he stands out. She has seen him before, crossing the waters in his mighty ship. She knows that he is noble, that people admire and love him. She knows because it took them so long to tear themselves from his side and run for the safety of the cabin. There is a lot you can tell from the way people behave in a stormy night on the sea. She can tell that he yearns for something. It's the way he stares into the blackness around him. She can tell that he is born to endure pain others couldn't stand because his white linen shirt doesn't shield him from the icy winter air. She can tell that he has no idea what wonders the ocean holds because otherwise, he would be in the cabin with his men.

Another wave hits the ship from the left, and the water comes dangerously close to sending him over the railing. She's not sure whether she'd welcome it or not. Tipping her head to the side, her long blonde hair annoyingly heavy now that gravity has a hold on it, she remains steady in the waves. Water is her element, and storms cannot scare her. Lightning strikes, illuminating the sky, calling her back into the depths of the ocean and for one fateful second, their eyes meet. Her heart clenches, and she fears she is doomed.

* * *

When he wakes up, he is on firm ground again. It doesn't make any sense, he remembers being on his ship, far out in the ocean, miles from the coast. He remembers looking into the eyes of the storm (or did he?), and yet, he can smell coffee and fire and the sea. He can feel a scratchy blanket against his throat and there are gulls crying somewhere. Opening his eyes is torture, moving his limps impossible.

"Easy there, mate, easy," a deep and friendly voice calls to him and a tall man appears, gently helping him up until he's sitting up on the small cot, his back pressed against the wooden wall behind him, his feet on the ground. His leather boots are still wet. Pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

"My ship," he croaks, and thinks of his men.

His host shakes his head, and there is pity in his brown eyes. "You're the only one I found on the shore." The man leaves and returns with a chipped mug that is soon pressed into the survivor's cold hands. He notices that the signet ring his father bequeathed to him was lost in the waves. He's not an optimist, but he knows that his saviour wouldn't have taken it from him. It identifies him as the king, and only fools would dare to steal from their ruler. The man who is now adding a generous helping of whiskey to the coffee in his mug is not a fool. His eyes are shrewd.

"What's your name?" he inquires, still sounding too feeble for his liking. He is used to being powerful.

Pulling a rickety chair to the bed, the man sits down and smiles at him. "Nereus. Quite an apt name for a fisherman, eh?"

He nods, and slowly feels life returning to him. It was close. Good God, it was close. "I owe my life to you." He would bow his head in gratitude if movement didn't make it feel like bursting.

"No, you don't. I only picked you up at the beach when I went to check on my boat. You were already out of the water. The fates saved you, I just brought you here."

Taking a sip from his coffee (it's so hot and strong that he almost spits it back into the mug), he tries to remember the moment he went into the water, and draws a blank. There was darkness, there was lightning, and... well, he'll be damned, but he doesn't remember a thing from then on. "Where exactly am I?"

Nereus leans back into the chair, completely at ease with the world. "You are a day's march away from King Castor's realm. This here is on the border of no-man's land." He looks around the modest hut. The furniture is simple. The two small windows are almost clean, and the straw roof seems to be in good shape. Everything is build to endure, and he gets the same impression when looking at the fisherman's face.

"Why do you live here rather than near your king?"

Nereus shrugs. "Why not? I'm closer to the stars this way. And I don't have a king, I told you, this is no-man's land."

"You have no idea who I am," he says, astounded.

"You're the poor lad who almost drowned," Nereus corrects him, and adds some more whiskey to the mug before taking a swig from the bottle himself.

* * *

Below the water, the mermaid looks at the heavy golden ring she has taken from the man. She wanted something to remember him by, even though in her heart she knew that she couldn't possibly forget him. It's too big for any of her fingers save her thumbs, so she locks it away, hides it from her sisters, from herself.

She resumes life as she knows it, but when she closes her eyes and lets the current carry her away, all she can see are his eyes, green and alive even in their fear, and all she can wish to feel is the touch of his skin against hers. She remembers his weight in her arms, her desperate bid to carry him to the surface. She doesn't know much about humans, but she knows that they need air. They need to breathe. Ever since she's seen him, it feels as if she does, too. She's drowning, and can't find it in herself to smile at the irony of it.

* * *

"My Lord, we have not found any sign of your men. I'm afraid they were claimed by the sea." With an almost imperceptible movement of his head, he sends the messenger away. Two weeks since the storm, and he is the only proof that the ship and its crew ever existed. He can't sleep at night, he wakes up again and again, feeling destiny tugging at his clothes, feeling the water drag him down. But he didn't die, and that's something he has to remind himself of every minute of the day. He's not dead.

"You look deep in thought."

It's Icarus, striding into the long hall as if it was him that ruled this kingdom. "You know, your people are getting worried. They say that the mermaids dragged you into the depths of the ocean, and sent back a changeling instead." Castor smiles despite himself. He knows that his people think no such thing, but Icarus has always known how to cheer him up. He doesn't respond, but he doesn't have to. Icarus is contend to do the talking for now. The advisor walks up to the king, and offers a short bow that is almost mockery.

"If you want to thank the deities for not letting you sink to the bottom of the ocean and rot there, you might want to consider paying the temple a visit." Castor ponders this, and nods. It will give his people a chance to see him, ease their worry. "I will. Thank you."

"And while you're there, you might also want to start looking for a wife. It's not good if a king doesn't have issue. And it's not good for a man to sleep in a cold bed."

"Your frankness is appreciated, but unnecessary."

"Is it?" With another shrewd look, Icarus turns and leaves.

* * *

Her sisters begin to avoid her. They don't know what's wrong with her, and she won't tell them. She no longer takes pleasure in singing, she doesn't search for pearls, doesn't talk, doesn't dance. Time passes in the slow way it does in the water, and still, she doesn't return to the surface for distraction. She doesn't have to, her heart is already there.

It is then, in the middle of her longing, that she remember the legends. She is not the only one to have ever fallen for a human. There are many of her kind who have, but few got to be happy. One who didn't is the forgotten princess of the Shallow Sea. She had taken a fancy to a dark youth, who lived near the white cliffs, where the rocks are sharp, and the water turquoise. From the crashing waves at their base, she would watch him for hours on end. Soon, the princess no longer only watched during darkness, she was unable to stay away from him. Legend has it that he saw her one day, and, blinded by her beauty, jumped down the cliffs to be close to her. The ocean washed his blood away, leaving the rocks white, and the princess's heart changed. Nobody remembers the princess's name. Nobody even calls her a princess anymore, she is now known as the witch of the Seven Seas, granting wishes to those who dare to ask for them.

It's dangerous, but it is a chance, the mermaid thinks, and sets out to find the witch.

* * *

The temple is so white that he has to close his eyes. The marble is shining, and he feels blinded. Beside him, Icarus laughs. "Water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink." The priestesses at the temple have sworn a vow of chastity, and the few other women living and praying within these holy walls are of such noble rank that they would never deign to so much as look at Icarus. Castor knows that it must hurt his friend. Icarus wasn't born a nobleman, but the king did everything in his power to elevate the younger man's rank. However, some doors will always remain closed to Icarus, and there is nothing he can do about it. Castor didn't make these laws, and contrary to popular belief, he can't change them. People don't understand that being a good king entails following rules designed by the wise ancestors rather than make new ones on a whim.

"Which one?" he asks, and wishes to be somewhere else. He can sleep again, and he dreams of a voice singing to him, singing the song of life and death. All he wants to do is dream, but he has to live. He has responsibilities, duties. Being here is one of them. Icarus rises on the tips of his toes, and quickly finds the object of interest. "The one with the black hair near the statue." Castor straightens his shoulders, cranes his head as much as a king can without running the risk of being undignified and spots her immediately. She is stunning. He says as much to Icarus, who shrugs, and walks away.

Her name is Psyche, he soon learns, and half his kingdom wants her to become his wife.

* * *

The sea witch lives in what used to be a palace. The structure of it is still beautiful, the pillars still impressive, but it is a ruin. Time is tugging at its four corners, and at some point, it will crash like the kingdom it once belonged to. The mermaid hopes that it can last another day. She has no wish to die under a fallen pillar in the a forbidden corner of the ocean. Atlantis has already seen too many deaths.

She swims through the entrance, and it isn't long before she finds the witch. She is sitting on a broken column in what used to be a prayer room, combing her lovely silvery blonde hair. The mermaid spoke to one of the elders, and with great effort, the wise man remembered that the witch was once called Serenity. The name still fits, the mermaid thinks, and swims closer. In the ocean, only royalty gets to carry a name, and the mermaid has always wished for one of her own.

Serenity is unperturbed by the unannounced visitor, and continues to comb her hair, letting each strand dance around her head. The mermaid has never seen anyone with hair this long. It's gorgeous.

"What brings you here?" the witch finally asks, and fixes her pale blues on the mermaid. It's the eyes that make the other merpeople afraid of the witch, the mermaid realises. They have seen too much, have stared into the sun for too long. But the mermaid knows what she came for, and she thinks of him walking the land: alone, searching something he cannot attain while she is still a creature of the water.

"I need to become human," she says, and the witch smiles.

* * *

Nereus gets his boat and his nets ready, and sets out on the sea. There is a breeze, tugging at his chestnut curls, and he ties them back with a piece of string. Throwing out his nets, he smiles and shakes his head. The man he took home weeks earlier, his foundling, as he calls him, returned to pay him a visit yesterday and turned out to be King Castor himself. Who would have thought that kings could be so nice? He brought his advisor, a sharp-minded and quick-witted youth, and the three of them grilled fish and drank ale, and it was as if all men were equal.

Pondering this thought, he stares out at the ocean, watching the sun's reflection on the dark blue water. Suddenly, the surface is disturbed, and with one giant splash, a girl appears, frantically trying to keep above the surface. He doesn't hesitate, he can see that she's not able to swim, so he jumps into the water (cold, so cold) and gets to her as fast as he can. It takes all his strength to drag both of them back into his boat, and it is there that he notices that all she is wearing is one golden ring on her thumb and a necklace made of shells.

He swallows, hard, and his nets are forgotten.

* * *

The duties of a king are manifold, but recently, the scales have been tipped and there is more pleasure in his life than ever before. Psyche is a woman he values above all others, and he has never seen anyone as spiritual and graceful as her. Counter-balancing her virtues is the coarse laugh of his new friend by the shore, the fisherman who happily lives in his hut even though he's been offered a place in the palace.

Castor tells Icarus to get their horses ready, and half a day later, they arrive at the humble abode. Icarus is just unstrapping a barrel of finest mead from his horse, when Nereus walks out. There are worry lines in his tan face that weren't there last time, Castor notices, and something close to fear reaches for him. But a king is never afraid, he thinks, and steels himself.

Nereus smiles then, and behind him, a golden haired maiden appears, her face a vision of happiness.

* * *

Her story is sad, even more so because she can't tell it herself. A victim of a shipwreck, just like himself. Mute, with wounded feet, and nothing and no-one in the world but the fisherman who found her. Castor thinks that Nereus must be a kind spirit of the sea, how else could he always be the one to save people? Uncharacteristically, he voices this thought aloud, unconscious of doing so. Icarus looks at the fisherman and says that he looks more like a bearded fairy to him. Nereus laughs, and the two men begin to bicker like old housewives. Castor however can't tear his eyes from the blonde woman. She's dressed in some old clothes of Nereus, and almost disappears in them. But her eyes are blue, blue like the sea in the night, and they are just as dangerous and beautiful. She's still weak, and it shows in the way she walks, every step insecure, and he wonders whether she will faint. But something tells him that she wouldn't do that, not ever. She has steel in her bones, and maybe even in her soul. She's like him. And then she smiles, and the thought is forgotten.

* * *

The bed is almost as soft as the waters she has grown up in, and she sinks back into the cushions with a pleased sigh. The door opens, and the handmaiden comes in. Her name is Melaina, and she reminds her of Nereus, who was so kind and so worried about her. Melaina smiles at her, unfazed by her silence, and the mermaid scrambles up, eager to show that she is in command of her new body. She misses her tail, and the speed with which she was able to move under water, but she will make this body hers too. It will just take a while.

"I don't know what to do about your feet," Melaina says, and frowns.

The mermaid shrugs and smiles. She had vowed to smile all the pain away.

"What is it that you do?" Melaina continues, and begins to put some fresh smelling ointment on the scratched soles of her feet. "Every evening, there is blood in your shoes, and cuts on the soles of your feet. Really, what do you do when no-one is watching? Do you dance through the rose bushes on bare feet?" The mermaid tilts her head, puts on a clueless expression and shrugs again. Even if she could speak, she could never tell the handmaiden about the deal she made with the sea witch. A human body, a chance at love, but only for the price of her voice, and feet that bleed with each step she takes. More often than not, the pain is excruciating, but she has her goal in mind and that makes it more bearable. There is more to the deal than the silence and the pain though, but the mermaid doesn't think of it because she knows that she doesn't have to. He will fall in love with her, and they will be happy, and when he marries her, her voice will come back and the pain will go away. Serenity said that true love was to be rewarded. She doesn't have to think of it going wrong because it won't - it can't. Castor immediately took her to his palace, didn't he?

"All fixed," Melaina says and smiles, and the mermaid thinks that she is easily the prettiest human she has ever seen.

* * *

It bothers him that she doesn't have a name. Even after he taught her to write, there is no name he can learn. The shipwreck cost her her memory, and his soul aches for her. Thinking of her consumes him, but he hides it from everyone. He's good at hiding things. Still, he can't keep away from her, as if offering her his presence could restore her to her former self. It could have been him, he thinks, and goes to put down gifts at the temple. The gods have saved his both his life and his memories, and he owes them gratitude.

Psyche is there, in prayer. When she sees him, she doesn't smile, but he knows that his presence pleases her anyway. She doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve. He told her about the catastrophe that cost twenty-seven men their lives, and she offers to pray for their souls. He doesn't tell her about the woman he took to the palace with him, the one he couldn't bring himself to leave in Nereus's home, the one he goes riding with, the one who makes droll faces when he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders.

* * *

The kitchen is one of her favourite places in the castle, so it's a good thing that Melaina doesn't mind her presence. Sometimes, the mermaid wants to help the brunette, but she is never allowed to and always handed a plate with something delicious to nibble on instead. "You're too skinny, you don't eat enough," Melaina says, and shoves another plate in her hands. The mermaid knows that she's not, her body was simply not made for the earth, so living on it takes a lot out of her. It's not food that she needs, it's love.

But Melaina and the other maids are funny, and the mermaid thinks that she could find a place for herself among them. They are kind women, friendly and easy in a way that reminds her of her sisters, and the mermaid thinks that if Nereus ever came to the court and met Melaina, he wouldn't want to live in his hut anymore.

Thinking about this, the mermaid laughs (soundlessly), and is happy.

* * *

"Oh, for crying out loud, let's just call her Calypso," Icarus exclaims, looking even more annoyed than usual. Castor arches one brow, and closes his book. They are in his private chambers, and Icarus is lying on the king's bed, one hand pressed over his eyes.

"She needs a name! If I hear you asking 'how is she', 'what is she doing', 'did she like the chocolates I sent her' one more time, then I will go and drown myself, and I won't let Nereus save me!"

"Are you confused as to who I mean?" the king asks, genuinely puzzled.

Icarus looks at him as if he wanted to smack him on the back of the head, and remembered just in time that this would push things just a little bit too far, even though they are alone. Instead, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and sneers. It's a testament to his bad mood that it doesn't look ridiculous with him lying down. "No, because it's not as if you ever mean anyone but her. Good thing Psyche doesn't know about it."

Feeling as if a landslide has begun racing down a mountain, Castor's mouth sets into a hard line, and the other shoe drops. Icarus jumps up and hastily disappears.

* * *

They are sitting next to each other on a bench, looking at the pond. She thinks artificial waters are useless, there is no life, no will, no soul in them, and suddenly, she misses the ocean with a pang. He's cold today, but she clings to the thought that he asked her to come and walk with him. Not that she could ask him, she thinks, and wonders at her own bitterness.

"Icarus proposed a name for you." His voice is wrong. She hasn't spoken to her like this before. He sounds like a king speaking to his subjects. Unable to voice any of the thousand questions running through her head, she looks at him instead, hoping that her eyes will encourage him to go on. She always wanted to have a name.

He remains silent, and stares at the pond, but not in the same way that he stared at the ocean the night his ship sank. Her heart beats a little faster.

"He suggested Calypso." She grins. Icarus had told her the old myths, and she remembered the silly nymph and her attempt to detain Odysseus from his true love. "Do you like the name?"

She makes a so-and-so movement with her hands, and he chuckles, the warmth finally returned to him.

* * *

Nereus, who likes being alone as much as he likes having company, simply welcomes Icarus and offers him half of his dinner. Icarus accepts, and the two eat in companionable silence. It's only when they get to the drinking part of the evening that Icarus reveals the reason behind his visit.

"Who is she?"

Nereus doesn't need to ask who the king's advisor is talking about. "I know as much about her as you do. Probably less."

"Do you think she could be of noble birth?" There is urgency in his voice, a feverish hope. Nereus hates destroying it, but he's an honest man, and when someone asks him a question, he will answer it. "I fished her out of the ocean, naked as the gods made her. She wore only a ring and a necklace made from shells. I don't know much about noblewomen, but..."

Icarus closed his eyes. "Then he can't marry her." Nereus examines his hands. They are gnarled from mending nets all afternoon, with blisters all over his index fingers. "In a perfect world, he could."

"This isn't one," Icarus says, and in the candlelight it seems as if there are tears in his eyes.

* * *

Her feet still bleed, they still hurt, and she is still mute and misses the ocean, but he reached for her hand when they walked today, so it's worth it. It's all worth it.

* * *

There are things you can't tell a king. Even when your name is Icarus, and you are bolder than anyone else in the kingdom, and the king's best friend and most trusted advisor to boot, there are things you don't say. So Icarus watches, and keeps quiet, something he rarely does. He likes Calypso, she is funny, and he can tell that she would make the king happy. She makes him smile so easily. The servants like her, the king likes her, Nereus likes her. Hell, the bunnies and the bees probably like her too, but that doesn't change a thing.

So how do you tell a king that the woman he is falling in love with is not the one the world will allow you to marry?

* * *

There is destiny, and then there are politics. Castor looks into Psyche's beautiful violet eyes and wonders when he started to see only the latter in them. She's perfect: a born queen. She is generous and poised. She never sets a foot out of place, never makes a face that makes her look stupid, and she never laughs until she has to reach for his arm to steady herself. But she is a good woman, and he is a king, and Icarus is right.

* * *

The mermaid dreams, and the dreams are dark because they are memories and feed off her fear. The bright blue eyes of Serenity sweetly stare holes into her heart, and when she finally wakes, she's covered in sweat and there are tears running down her cheeks. She breathes in, and out, and in, and out, but the panic doesn't subside and the necessity of breathing makes her head spin. If he marries another, she will perish on the morning after his wedding night. As soon as the sun rises in the east, she will be foam on the waves, and then she will be nothing, and she wants to live. She so wants to live.

The pillows no longer feel as soft as they used to, and she doesn't dare to go back to sleep. Instead, she slips on a gown and goes for a walk in the moonlight. It's a cold night, and she still hasn't gotten used to having the temperature affect her. In the sea, she never minded.

* * *

Melaina doesn't know whether to be excited or disappointed. Her king is finally getting married, she heard him and Icarus talking about just after sunrise when they walked to the stables and she had gone to get some fresh milk. They hadn't noticed her, which was a good thing because she needed a moment to find the excitement in herself she knew she ought to feel. The king is getting married, there will be children, the kingdom will be safe. Every subject wants their king to be happy.

But he won't marry Calypso, she thinks, spills some of the milk, and begins to cry over it.

* * *

It's not Castor. It's Icarus.

"He's getting married. Tomorrow." She reaches for his hand, and she can tell that he has the urge to pull it back. But he has to say it. She will still hope otherwise. "She lives at the temple," he says, and doesn't meet her eyes. He shifts and holds her hand in his and his voice is gentler than ever before. "She is of noble birth, the niece of a prince of a neighbouring kingdom." She drops his hand, gets up and leaves. Her fate is sealed.

* * *

He has decided that he's going to get married on a ship. He hasn't set foot on one since the night he almost drowned, and he refuses to think about what this choice says about his state of mind. It's a big ship, it's a safe ship, and it's a good ship. There are plenty of cabins for his guests, and he hopes that Calypso will be in one of them. He can't imagine getting through this without her.

Icarus enters the room, and looks disgusted. He fiddles with a roll of parchment, and Castor watches him, quietly. "What did she say?"

Icarus's jaw drops and he doesn't even joke about the inappropriateness of the question. Suddenly, anger rises in Castor and he reaches for the nearest item and throws it against the wall with all his might. He picks up the next, and his rage knows no bounds. Finally, he stands in a room full of broken things, Icarus for once silent and afraid. Feeling empty inside, Castor wishes he would have drowned. It couldn't have been more painful than this.

* * *

She's on the ship, hiding behind other people. She had to come, had to be close to him because soon she won't be able to. The clock is ticking. Nereus is also there, and her only moment of pleasure is when she sees him talking to Melaina. At least there is love for some, she thinks, and wishes her saviour and her friend the best the world has to offer. Melaina smiles, Nereus laughs, and the mermaid closes her eyes. This is how it is supposed to be.

The trumpets announce the bride, and the small crowd parts for her. The mermaid can see why the woman was chosen over herself, she couldn't possibly compete with her. Her black hair is in a complicate up-do, tiny braids framing her face, beads woven into the silken tresses. She moves with a grace the mermaid can only envy, and never obtain herself. The bride was born to walk, and her feet don't hurt with each step. There is no blood in _her_ shoes. Her skin is pale, and the mermaid remembers that her own looked just like it when she still lived under the sea. Now, her skin is tanned, kissed by the sun. She just wishes it could have been kissed by the king instead. He is dressed in some sort of formal robes, silver like his hair. It's the first time she sees him wearing the crown, and it looks heavy. She knows that its the crown that keeps them apart, and she wants to walk up to him, take it from his head and toss it into the waves, watch it drown like the countless sailors claimed by the sea since the beginning of time.

But she doesn't move, doesn't breathe until her lungs ache. He doesn't look at her, but she knows that he has seen her. The priest is young and eager, and the ceremony long. But it comes to the end the kingdom needs it to, and when he says "I do", she can't wait for morning to come and take her away. The sea around them will be her grave.

* * *

She spends her last night watching him, waiting for him to come to her as she knows he will. His bride, no, his wife, she corrects herself, retires and disappears under deck, and he makes his way over to her. The mermaid swallows and wishes that like Calypso, she could keep her Odysseus for seven years. Seven years are better than seven months. She leans on the railing, and stares into the night. There are stars above them, and the moon is bright. For a moment, she thinks she can see the sea witch in the distance, watching them with sad and disappointed eyes. One of the pockets of her dress suddenly gets heavier, and she can feel a foreign weight press against her thigh. She closes her eyes, and knows what it is. It's a dagger, made from the white stone on which the sea witch's lover died. The mermaid knows that it is the witch's idea of kindness.

He comes to rest beside her, and puts his arms on the railing, leaning on them. They almost touch. He looks weary. "I never told you, but I almost drowned too," he confesses and she shakes her head. He didn't have to tell her, she was there. But he doesn't know what the shaking of her head means, and feels lost. "I wish you could talk."

She wishes for many things, and one of them is that the beautiful woman in his bed doesn't exist. She wishes that he were a fisherman, like Nereus, and that she would be good enough for him. She wishes that her feet wouldn't hurt, or that they would never stop hurting, for then she could live. She can't say any of those things though, and then she too wishes she could speak. She wishes she could tell him that she loves him, and that she hopes that one day, they might be together. In a perfect world. He clears his throat. "I have to go." He turns away from her, his face a mask. She realises that she is not the only one who is mute and watches him leave.

It is the hour when only fools remain on deck, the moment of the night where ocean and heaven merge into one darkness. She feels wind and water on her face, and knows that she has to come to a decision. Life or death. Both lead her back to the ocean. Either way, she will drown.

* * *

Her footfalls are soft, and each gently placed step hurts like hell. She opens the door, wondering why his guards are not there to protect him, and then realises that he has no enemies on this ship. He is asleep, his arms wrapped loosely around the woman who is supposed to make him happy. The mermaid wonders whether happiness is actually on the horizon for them, or whether it wouldn't be an act of mercy to release them from his painful life. The dagger is in her hands, cool to the touch. Her life at the price of his. She looks at him one last time. If she would have put her life above his, then she would have let him drown all those months ago when she was still a mermaid, happy and oblivious to the cruelty of human life.

So she drops the knife, watches it shatter on the floor, soundless like herself. She puts the golden ring she had taken from him on his finger (one last touch, she thinks, and cries) and walks away into the morning on the shards of her love for him.

* * *

**The End**


End file.
